Disconnected
by TheBluePiglet
Summary: Picks up immediately after the end scene in "Truth or Consequences". My take on what happened after the applause died down and the real rescue of Ziva began. Spoilers for season 7. Hints of Tiva.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Disconnected**

**Rating: K+**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Pairing: Tiva if you want it to be.**

**Summary: Picks up immediately after the end scene in "Truth or Consequences". My take on what happened after the applause died down and the real rescue of Ziva began. Spoilers for season 7. Hints of Tiva.**

**A/N: I just wanted to say that I have NOT abandoned my other story _"Save Me For A Day"_. I simply wanted something to do on the side while I figure out what to do with that one.**

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**Disconnected**

By: TheBluePiglet

As she stood there, caught in the tight embrace of the NCIS forensic scientist, Ziva David found herself debating the reality of the situation. What had just happened? If she remembered correctly and she was fairly positive she did, despite the semi-conscious state she was currently experiencing, she had in fact been rescued.

_Rescued. _

They had come for her, even though she was believed to be dead. They had risked their lives to honor her name, to take revenge. That could simply not be right. She had betrayed them, pushed them away when offering a solution, refused their help. Why would they care about her after that? She had allowed herself to get distracted, to be manipulated. She had allowed herself to get torn between two loyalties, turning her back on one only to receive the very same treatment from the other. She didn't deserve to be avenged, but still here she was.

During the time Ziva had spent with NCIS she had come to think of her team as family, something she had never dared to do before. Her years with Mossad had taught her how dangerous it could be to get too attached to your co-workers, it only made the loss that much harder but inevitable nonetheless. Here in DC however, a place free from suicide bombers and daily death threats, things were different. And Ziva had grown to cherish that difference with genuine gratitude. They had been friends, always watching out for each other, never leaving anyone behind. Now however, with everyone's curious eyes on her, Ziva felt more like an outcast than ever before in her life. She stood there as an imposter, tainting the atmosphere with her presence. And even though she was in a room full of people, she had never felt more alone.

Abby's touch felt off somehow, dreamlike almost. Although the hug itself was soothing, offering the great solace only human contact could, it felt numb. Or maybe it was she? Guess months of torture and humiliation would do that to you, even if you're a trained assassin.

It was a funny feeling, being on the other side of torture, being the one receiving instead of giving, acting as the victim instead of the one responsible. The one stopping at nothing to succeed in recovering the information demanded to complete the mission and please whoever behind it all. Because God knows she had. A sudden feeling of guilt started spreading through her chest. So this was what she had been trained to do? It was probably only fair she got a taste of her own pie. Or was it medicine? She couldn't find it in her to remember at the moment.

Still deep in thought, Ziva felt the slightly bone crushing yet comforting grip loosen and finally let go of her body. She didn't know how long they had been standing there, and frankly she didn't care. As she tried to focus her vision on the woman before her she saw a hand resting on each of Abby's shoulders forcing her backwards. The Goth was clearly not appreciating the interruption and was quite desperately trying to fight it.

"Abby," The familiar voice was gentle but firm – McGee. "You gotta let Ducky check on her."

"Oh, right…" Abby answered, understanding his logic.

As on cue, Ziva felt a careful hand take a hold of her right arm, pulling her ever so slowly towards the elevator.

"How about we get you out of those clothes dear?" Ducky asked, though it wasn't as much a question as it was an order.

Some of the few word's she had exchanged with who she had once called boss, or anyone else for that matter, on the flight back from Africa was in a small argument regarding her health. Gibbs had ordered that they were to take her to a hospital but she had insisted that it wasn't necessary. A few moments later they had come to the agreement that Ziva would go see Ducky the second they arrived at the Navy Yard. Lacking the energy to protest any further she had accepted this solution as a fair one.

Aware of the fact that she had no say in the matter the Israeli allowed herself to be lead towards the silver doors. She couldn't help the embarrassment that followed after her legs gave out and she stumbled forwards, nearly hitting the ground.

Thankfully, the Scotsman's old age hadn't affected his reaction ability all too much. Like the gentleman he was, Ducky caught the Israeli around the waist in a fluid motion, effectively stabilizing her. And even though trying, the ME failed to hide the horrified look that crossed his features when for the first time realizing how legibly he could feel Ziva's ribs beneath her shirt. He figured that the baggy clothes had disguised how much weight she had truly lost during her captivity.

Ziva felt the little pride she had left disappear completely as she, although somewhat reluctantly, accepted Ducky's help. She cursed herself for showing such weakness openly, but after picturing the scenario of passing out in the middle of the headquarter she came to the conclusion that it was for the best, at least for the time being. Simply keeping her eyes open was starting to become a challenge, still she silently prayed for Ducky to move faster. She didn't know how much longer she could take the pitying looks that encircled her. It was driving her mad, slowly but surely robbing her of her sanity.

A sudden 'ding' declared her escape route's presence and she felt relief wash over her the very second she stepped inside. Making her way out of Ducky's grasp Ziva slowly crossed the floor and leaned her aching body against the cold wall, earning her a taste of her much needed independency. Immediately feeling less exposed she dared look up for the first time since having been released from Abby's caring arms.

Far across the squad room she was met with a set of green, uncharacteristically soft eyes. The former partners held the gaze, desperately trying to regain the ability to communicate without words that they once shared, until it was finally broken by the elevator doors sliding shut.

Still standing, after having reflexively gotten up from behind his desk when seeing Ziva trip, Tony sunk back into his chair. He buried his face in his hands and let out a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding.

TBC?

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**I'm not sure whether to continue this or simply leave it as it is, I think I'll leave it for you to decide. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

He could tell she was exhausted. The way she was actually letting him carry most of her weight was giving her away, not that she would ever admit it. And if he were to verbally confront her about it she would in all probability simply shrug it off, insisting on being fine. Therefore he decided not to bother her by making her lie, because he knew she would, and Ziva had had enough of that in her life. Ducky's concern only increased as she retreaded away from his steadying hold, finding support from the nearby wall instead. He didn't mention it though, she needed her space, which in itself was understandable. She had never been the dependent type, shutting people out and dealing with problems by herself was in her nature. It wasn't that Ducky doubted her strength, on the contrary, he had always been in awe of her capability and professionalism. He knew however, that it was only so much a person could take. No matter whom you might be or how you've been raised.

Any other doctor would in all likelihood have asked her how she was doing. He would have attempted to make her open up, try and have her tell him all about the summer she spent in hell, surely reopening old wounds in the process – not to mention the ones still fresh. Another doctor would have gathered as much information as possible, squeezing her for details to the very last drip. Ducky didn't. He knew better, he knew _her _better and she wasn't anywhere near ready for a psych evaluation. First she needed time to digest what had happened and hopefully be able to take control over the things that was no doubt swirling around in her head. Comprehend what she had gone through herself before even beginning to tell others. And so he kept his questions about Somalia to a minimum, yet still making sure he had the necessary facts he needed to do the medical examination.

Judging by the haunted look that resided in Ziva's eyes, Ducky concluded that her photographic memory wasn't working her any favors. He couldn't begin to imagine how excruciatingly painful in must be to remember everything in perfect detail. Every face, every word, every… Ducky felt a shiver down his spine as he caught himself wandering the trail of thoughts he had decided not to take. By that only meaning for the time being of course, this wasn't something that could be ignored forever and he knew he would have to deal with it sooner or later. Still, if he let the horrible truth behind Ziva's current state distract him he knew for a fact he wouldn't be able to finish the task at hand. Taking care of the woman, whose poor condition was worryingly obvious, was top priority. The other could wait, but only for the briefest of moments.

After having really observed Ziva for the first time since her return, it was clear that she already suffered from a variety of psychological problems typical of torture victims. One of them was poor sleep, assumingly accompanied by nightmares, explaining her heavy eyes and fatigue. The other, even more visible now that her sickeningly bony frame was no longer hidden beneath all that fabric, was lack of appetite. According to the information he had been provided with Ziva had barely been able to eat anything during the flight back to DC. She had tried once but the food quickly found its way back up her throat again, resulting in her losing her appetite completely. As alarming as this occurrence may have been, it was to be expected after so many months of starvation. It would take quite some time before her stomach would be able to process ordinary fare and would have to be slowly approached with lenient cooking like soup or cream of wheat.

Now these symptoms could be expected from anyone separated from their friends and family for a longer amount of time, but the degree of them, combined with the Israeli's physical shape, suggested much greater trauma.

Carefully inspecting her body bit for bit Ducky found that the most common visible proof of what she had endured was scars of abrasions and lacerations, possibly caused by whippings or kicks. They seemed to be randomly located with focus on her back, abdomen, arms, legs, and feet.

Some of the wounds showed thickened scarring indicating former infection due to having been left untreated and without medical care. He identified the marks on her wrists as rope burns resulting from long periods of bondage. She also had symmetrical bruising on both ankles supporting his theory of her having been tightly bound by the ankles as well. Other than that, Ziva exhibited extensive scarring on all of her limbs, especially her legs, and the left side of her lower torso. Although impossible to relate the injuries to a specific form of torture they strongly suggested former cuts and deep wounds. And whatever sharp object that was responsible for the damage had occurred in a similar fashion on larger parts of her body.

Throughout the whole procedure the ME persistently filled the silence with his famous stories, concerning just about anything and anyone. He was currently telling her about one of his mates from medical school and his extremely bad fortune when it came to dealing with the ladies. Words couldn't describe how delighted Ducky was when Ziva finally crooked a small smile, barely noticeable but there nonetheless. The small gesture warmed his heart, which was still acing with compassion for the poor girl. He was almost as in physical pain after seeing the extent of what she had been trough and he gladly absorbed the slightest sign of the old Ziva like a dry sponge. He knew she was in there somewhere, the endearingly unique character they had come to love and care for, and he was determined to do all in his power to bring the spark back into her eyes – they all were.

Nearly done with the examination Ducky went on with the last few checkups.

"Would you mind opening your mouth for me dear?" Ducky asked.

Ziva hesitated for a second before slowly unlocking her jaws in approval, flashing three gaping holes in the process.

"Oh my." Ducky breathed in surprise. "That certainly looks like something that will have to be taken care of."

Three upper teeth were missing and a pink circular scar occupied her gum, proving that the loss had been forced by violence.

In Ziva's lack of response the doctor spoke again. "May I ask what caused this?"

She hesitated yet again, struggling to find the right words. Eventually she settled for a suitable answer. "They did many things," She averted her eyes, no longer able to meet his gaze. "But some acts are simply too cruel."

Ducky had known he would have to ask this question all along. No matter how bad the hurt would be, he had to make sure, for her sake. "Ziva, did they–"

"Rape me?" She cut in, her voice robbed of all emotion.

Taken aback by her bluntness it took the elderly man a few seconds before he could continue. "Well, yes."

"They attempted to many times, but the cell was too small and the men too disorganized." Her skin had now turned about two shades paler but her game face never dropped. "They only managed to overcome my struggles once."

"I'm... I'm so terribly sorry." Was all he managed as he wrapped his arm around her slender form weary of her injuries, it felt like someone had punched him in the gut.

After a few moments of complete silence he felt her starting to tremble under his touch. Ducky was aware that there was nothing he could do to mend her pain so he just kept holding her, brushing occasional strays of hair from her face as she cried, knowing that there was one more test they had to run.

TBC

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**Thanks to the positive feedback the last chapter got I decided to continue this story after all, I'm glad you enjoyed it! What do you think so far?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The cell had been almost completely dark, leaving no chance of keeping any sense of time or space. It was claustrophobically small, barely roomy enough to lie down in, and windows were a luxury she could only dream about. The sole source of light was the very limited daylight that came sippring through the tiny door opening whenever the guards needed to speak with her or decided to pass her food.

The meals had consisted by something looking similar to rice or bread served along with a cup of weak tea. This she was usually provided with once or twice a day, but sometimes nothing at all, leaving her body screaming for nutrition. Clean water was rarely available unless as a reward after having behaved during one of their interrogations, meaning no struggling, no speaking unless spoken to and no refusing to answer questions or even hesitate. Seeing how this didn't happen often, Ziva had to settle for the little amount she was given in order to keep her breathing.

Although allowed a blanket, sleeping was close to impossible as her captors would pour ice cold water all over the hard concrete floor, teasingly undrinkable of course. She would sometimes be allowed access to a toilet when requested but most of the time they would deny her any sanitary facilities. As a consequence, she found herself spending countless nights lying in her own urine and excrement. Flies and other biting insects were attracted by the odor that came as a result, which was only further worsened by the poor ventilation and hot temperature.

Beside the inhuman conditions of Ziva's prison, brutal beatings with kicks, punches, rifle butts, whips, sticks and clubs was a part of the everyday manners. The beating lacked structure most of the time, functioning as a twisted group activity for the guards to keep them alert and from getting bored. However, in some particular cases they choose to focus on specific parts of her body. In the beginning her knees and soles of her feet had been the main target with the intention of taking away her ability to stand properly and turn the simple task of walking barely sustainable.

Whenever losing consciousness during one of the many interrogation sessions, she would receive a kick to the ribs or abdomen. After having been briefly brought back due to the pain they would start bombarding her with forceful questions once again. Not once did they succeed in making her she answer them, but in the quest of simply breaking her they experienced far greater prosperity.

The price of being uncooperative was, not to much surprise, a high one. Humiliation and death threats had been a constant reality. It could come in many different forms, anything from verbal assaults to a gun pressed directly to her temple. At first Ziva couldn't decide which one she preferred, but the longer time she spent there the more tempting the carried out version of the second seemed to get.

Originally she had been afraid, full-fledged terrified in fact. How ashamed she was to admit it was insignificant, it was entirely as true nonetheless. No amount of years with Mossad training could prepare anyone for the mental suffering that she had sustained. Still, as the weeks went by she found herself slowly growing at peace with her destiny. She had already watched many co-prisoners die and even though compassion struck her every time one of them went down she couldn't help the jealously that came to linger in the pit of her stomach.

After what had seemed like an eternity in the terrorist camp, Ziva started thinking of death as a solution, something to put an end on her misery, rather than something to be feared. Ultimately she found herself actually longing for it, she was finally ready to die.

That was until _he_ came.

Sitting there in front of him, their knees nearly touching, Ziva hadn't known how to deal with the new turn of events. Overwhelmed by the whole situation she experienced difficulty accepting it as real. Yet, watching Tony's dry lips form the first words of kindness she had been offered in God knows how long, she felt herself snap out of whatever depressed trance she had fell offer to. Never had she had so many emotions explode within her, a mix of anger, sadness and joy threatening to burst through her very skin. Don't scream. Don't cry. Don't smile. Her brain sent out order after order, pounding in synch with her raising heartbeat.

She remembered being furious with him for risking his life coming there. Why wouldn't he get it? She wasn't worth it. He on the other hand had so much left to live for, so many reasons to be alive, he deserved happiness.

"_Tony, why are you here?"_

"_Couldn't live without you, I guess."_

It was embarrassing how easily his words had given her hope. Hadn't she just accepted the inevitable outcome? Hadn't she just come to realize that it was all justified?

Deep buried in her memories Ziva didn't notice the new presence entering the autopsy room.

"Ziva?" Ducky said gently, attempting to get her attention.

Ziva jumped at the sudden noise and he could have sworn he saw pure horror flash through her eyes as she turned to look at him. The reaction was a way too strong for his liking, especially considering who it was concerning, Ziva had never been one to get startled. Well, at least she hadn't used to be.

"I am sorry," Ziva mumbled under her breath. "I did not see you."

"That's quite alright my dear." Ducky assured. "I have the test results, if you are ready."

After quickly collecting herself Ziva nodded her answer, yes.

"I'm glad to say that you're miraculously not suffering from any internal bleedings. You do however show signs of a minor concussion, but it seems to have subdued quite nicely on its own."

Without any words leaving her lips Ziva watched the doctor intently as he continued with his diagnose, her eyes craving answers.

Ducky paused, not entirely sure how to approach the issue. "Also, the pregnancy test came out negative." He finally blurted out, knowing how she appreciated people being direct.

Closing her eyes Ziva let a wave of relief wash over her. She hadn't even thought about the possibility of her being with child as a result of the sexual assault she had stood victim for. Maybe it was her mental self-defense that had blocked out the possibility of her body carrying the offspring of one of the brutal monsters that haunted her dreams. The worry would no question have consumed her entire being, merely thinking about it made her sick to her stomach.

Giving her time to take in the information Ducky started digging through the brown leather bag he had placed on the table next to Ziva.

"Abby was kind enough to lend you some clean clothing." The Scotsman said as he revealed a mahogany colored sweat suit he had brought, complete with a black skull covering the back.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it." Ducky smiled. "I'll leave you some privacy to change."

He was only about to walk out the door as he heard a small voice behind him.

"Um, actually," She stumbled over her own words. "Could you stay?"

Ducky understood her not wanting to be alone, he really did, and he was more than happy to keep her company as long as that was what she wished. Truth be told, he felt honored to be the object of her trust, to be someone she felt secure enough around to show those rare signs of weakness which she hid so well.

"I'd be happy to, in fact I have some papers I need to finish up either way." He told her, walking over to his desk. "And don't worry, mother taught me good, I won't peek."

TBC

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**I'll only keep writing this story as long as you guys are interested and enjoy reading it, so if that's the case please take a minute and review. Otherwise I won't know. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

When first learning about Ziva's death, the team had taken a fatal blow to the very core of its dynamic. From the moment the news left his lips he could almost hear the chorus of hearts breaking, echoing through the lab. He could only watch as Abby's eyes lost all traces of their usual spark. He could only stand there as Tim's mouth tightened, forming a line so slim he couldn't help but wonder if it would ever find its way back to its usual phony grin. And then there was Tony. Gibbs knew that after having told the Special Agent about the fate of the Damocles he would no longer have lost only one valuable member of his team, but two.

The information had hit them hard, Gibbs knew that, and it was with good reason devastation invaded their features. No one should have to experience this kind of loss, and having to go through it twice? That was just ridiculous.

Kate had been a vital part of the team, during the years she had spent with NCIS she had come to befriend all of her teammates. She had adapted quickly, creating different yet equally as strong bonds with each of them and with time even growing necessary for the functionality of her co-workers. Needless to say, she had left one hell of a shoe to fill. Something a certain Ziva David had witnessed firsthand when assigned to the team as a liaison officer.

It's not that they had treated her in an unprofessional way, not exactly. They had all been aware of her impressive background and training, therefore allowing her to practice her skills whenever in favor to the current case. However, that had been about it, no more and no less. Desperately needed but hardly welcome.

If Gibbs would have guessed the problem probably didn't even lay in who she was, rather in the reason why she was there. It was never easy filling the position of someone else, especially not if that someone had been a loved one to the people now surrounding you. The people now comparing you, judging you and, for some odd yet humanly understandable reason, blaming you. The whole Mossad thing hadn't been to any help either, seeing how it only added to the reasons of hatred toward the assumed to be heartless, coldblooded killing machine.

Still, as time passed and the cases came and went Ziva had proven herself worthy of her position on the team, both professionally and socially. She had turned out to be perfectly capable of filling the great void her predecessor had left behind. Even though she would never be able to replace Kate in the depths of their hearts, her confident personality and caring nature had earned her a whole new place in the dysfunctional family that was the leading asset of NCIS. A place belonging to her, and to her only. Which is why the damage Ziva's absence had caused the team had been so significant and the apparent loss of her simply unbearable.

But she wasn't gone. No, Ziva was currently sitting there right in front of him, her small frame occupying disturbingly little of the cold autopsy table. Ducky's diagnose on the Israeli's state had been a mixture of both relief and horror. According to the ME, Ziva had endured rows of different torture techniques and lived through conditions so awful it was beyond the average mind's imagination capability. She had several broken ribs and her body suffered from severe malnutrition, not to mention the PTSD that would no doubt be present after this kind of experience. Yet, Gibbs couldn't help the warm feeling filling his heart as he looked at her.

She might be broken, but she was still breathing. She was alive and that was all that mattered for now. For the first time since her abrupt departure Gibbs allowed himself to realize just how much he had actually missed her. How much he had been hurting throughout the months he had lived in uncertainty of her return. How much he had second-guessed his decision to leave her behind. How much he had let her grow on him. How much he cared about her. Ziva David had been the first person since Kate's death to succeed in mending the heartache still haunting him after the decease of his only daughter, and he had almost lost her to the hand of another terrorist bastard.

"I will need to borrow some money." Ziva suddenly remembered, immediately voicing her thoughts.

Gibbs was abruptly brought back from his thoughts at the ragged sound of her voice.

"Yeah? And why is that?" He challenged.

"I no longer have a place to stay," She explained simply. "And hotels tend to require payment."

Gibbs eyed her closely for a moment before speaking again. "Out of the question."

The statement took Ziva by surprise, she wouldn't deny that. She was well aware of the fact that he didn't owe her anything, but to deny her such a simple request as lending her money for shelter? That was not what she had expected.

"You won't be staying at a hotel." Gibbs clarified, almost as if reading her thoughts.

"Then where do you suggest I sleep?" She was now officially confused.

"My guestroom," He shrugged. "Not a suggestion though."

"I can take care of myself." Ziva argued, fighting to withhold her stoic appearance. It was getting more difficult to keep the lump forming in her throat from affecting her voice every time she opened her mouth.

"I would strongly advise you to stay in the company of a familiar face for the night, dear." Ducky inquired softly. "Preferably for the next couple of days even."

"That's not–"

"Necessary? Doesn't matter," Gibbs cut in. "It's an order David."

Ziva briefly pondered whether to point out the obvious by reminding them that she was not theirs to order around anymore. Ultimately she decided to stay silent, finding a sudden interest in the floor instead.

"It's settled then." Gibbs stated. "She good to go?"

"Well, seeing how young Ziva here refuses to go to a hospital there's not much more I can do for her as of right now." Ducky answered with a sad smile, the worry evident in his eyes.

"Thanks Duck." The younger of the two men said, earning a pleased nod from the other. "C'mon Ziva," He gave her a pointed look. "We don't have all day."

TBC

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**Thank you all for the nice comments so far, your reviews really do keep me writing. :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: ****No, your eyes are not fooling you – it's actually an update!**

**Chapter 5**

Ziva's eyes still looked empty as Gibbs placed a bowl lukewarm soup on the living room table in front of her. Her thick mane of tangled curls hid parts of the heavy strokes she'd received during her summer in Somalia, excluding two angry cuts across her nose and cheekbone.

"No solid food just yet," He reminded as he pushed the steaming liquid closer to her. "Ducky's orders."

Finding it difficult to speak, though still feeling obligated to show some sign of gratitude, Ziva settled for a small nod and a strained smile in confirmation.

"Eat." The words were soft, but an order nonetheless.

And she did. Inhaling the soup unable to restrain herself to manners. She was so ravenously hungry.

Her desire for nurture had been burning like and endless fire for months, refusing to go out, and she was desperate to finally choke it. It had intruded her stomach as an unwelcome guest, making its home behind a wall of hunger, its daggers cutting her from inside.

She had been a prisoner trapped in a cage of regret, guilt siding with never-ending malnutrition forcing her back to consciousness each and every morning. It had consumed her, gnawing away the little resolve left in her tired body. She'd been left hollow and drained – a mere shadow of her old self.

Never again would she take food for granted, to be able to open the familiar doors to her refrigerator and stuff herself with whatever goodness inside, simply for the sake of it. The reason didn't really matter. Whether it was due to happiness, sadness or even boredom, just being able to choose her menu entirely for herself was something she would cherish greatly from now on.

The sound of Gibbs amused words drew her attention. "Taste any good?"

Only then did she realize she had already finished, the porcelain in front of her practically licked clean.

"Very." Her voice was faint and she still couldn't find it in her to meet his gaze, but her lips were curled in a shy beam.

"Care for a refill?" Gibbs asked as he rose from his chair grabbing the bowl.

He was aware of Ducky's warning not to allow her too big portions at a time, thereby minimizing the risk of everything coming back up. It would supposedly help her system get used to ordinary eating habits faster, but Gibbs still didn't like denying her much too thin frame anything edible. A little more soup couldn't possibly hurt now, could it?

Gibbs watched Ziva as she pondered her answer, he knew she too had been informed about the restrictions in her diet and the reasons behind them.

She threw a longing glance towards the kitchen, and if Gibbs hadn't known better he could have sworn he saw her pout. Finally Ziva wrapped a bony arm around her abdomen, dejected. "I doubt I can."

He had vowed not to pity the woman, knowing she wouldn't wish for any of the sort, but one would've had to be heartless not to feel bad for her. "Ate to fast, huh?"

"I believe so." Ziva admitted. Her stomach had already started churning and she could feel a lingering ache building up.

"Why don't you lay down for a bit?" Gibbs suggested, making a mental note on how she soothingly rubbed her belly as if trying to soothe the pain.

As on cue, Ziva felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her and before she knew it a long, tired yawn had escaped her.

"I'll take that as a yes." Gibbs chuckled and moved to put away the dishes and show his temporary house guest to her room.

When he returned from the kitchen however, Ziva had already made herself comfortable on the couch. The warm pillows were mercifully soft against her bruised body. So instead he grabbed a quilt from the basket by the fireplace and covered her up with it, careful not to disturb her wounds. He then retreated back to his chair.

"Please, feel no obligation to remain here for my sake." Ziva said, realizing he wasn't intending to leave. "You have already done more than I could ever repay."

He couldn't help the smirk that spread over his features as he looked at her. It was the longest sentence she'd formed since their return. "If you think you're gonna get me out of my favourite chair you're sadly mistaken David."

Her voice cracked as she spoke the words which had her meet his eyes for the first time in what seemed like forever. "Thank you Gibbs, for everything."

The assuring nod he offered in return was all she needed to allow herself to succumb to the darkness already tainting her vision, falling into a much needed slumber not a minute later.

For how long he sat there watching his former team member's chest rise and fall as she slept Gibbs didn't know, and frankly he didn't care. It seemed his mind couldn't grasp the fact that the once thought to be dead woman was now lying in his sofa, very much alive and breathing.

Soon two hours had passed and Gibbs found himself unable to decide whether to wake Ziva from her nap for dinner or putting it off for another few minutes and let her rest a little longer.

He was torn from his musings by the clattering noise of his phone vibrating against the living room table.

After quickly picking it up Gibbs made sure Ziva hadn't woken before silently making his way to the hallway.

"Yeah, Gibbs."

_"Hi Boss,"_ Tony's voice filled his ear. _"As you know Vance has requested our presence for a debrief tomorrow morning and I just wanted to make sure you got the right time."_

"9:00 am, I know." Gibbs answered. He could tell there was more to his subordinate's phone call than double checking the time for the meeting.

_"Good, just making sure,"_ Tony absently continued. There was _definitely_ an ulterior motive. _"So, um… feeling the jet-lag yet?"_ He stalled.

"The point DiNozzo?"

_"Right,"_ Tony cleared his throat, his voice now distinctly softer. _"How's she doing Boss?"_ He finally asked, further clarification on who he was referring to completely unnecessary.

Gibbs decided to be honest, after the hell his Senior Field Agent had been through the last couple of months he at least deserved that. "I'm not sure."

_"She there now?"_

"U-huh, resting."

_"Has she eaten anything yet? Ducky said it was important that–"_

"I've got this." Gibbs stated firmly, effectively cutting off the younger man's ramblings.

_"Of course you do,"_ The words were apologetic, almost sounding as if he regretted asking.

"She's gonna be okay." Gibbs promised, painfully unaware whether he was trying to convince Tony or himself. "Get some sleep Tony."

_"Yeah,"_ Grateful for the small words of solace but still not entirely at ease, Tony decided it was time to wrap things up. _"Well, I guess I'll see to you tomorrow then. Bye."_

And with that the line went dead, much to Gibbs surprise, he had to admit. Tony hanging up on him? Now that was a first. Then again it was probably but only one of many things that would come to change from here on.

No longer in need of his phone Gibbs flipped it shut and placed it safely in his pocket, knowingly shaking his head as he returned to his post by Ziva's side.

TBC?

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**I know I'm a despicable human being for taking ****so long to update and for that I apologize, but I hit a major writer's block and I never really found it in me to continue through it. Now, is there anyone actually still interested in this old piece or should I simply leave it for what it is? Please leave a review and tell me what you think!**


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